A sick day with Crowley
by Disdream
Summary: Ill and tired, she just wants to rest in bed, but she is asked to interrogate Crowley in his dungeon for an important case. What will the King of Hell do? Take advantage of her weakness or help her when she struggles with the fever?


_**Title : **A sick day with Crowley_

_**Author : **Disdream_

_**Warnings :** Swearing_

_**Word Count :** 2775_

_**Summary :** OS - Imagine Crowley taking care of you when you're sick._

_Originally, it is a Reader/Crowley story, but after reading the rules and guideline, I found out that stories with a you based were not allowed. Therefore, I changed it to third person, but I hope I didn't forget any changes!_

_It's an Imagine idea I found on Tumblr, I should submit the story there too._

_A big thank you to Sabrina (ivebeenpossessedbysatan), for her great work with beta reading my text! Thanks to her proofreading, this story is readable and so much better! =)_

* * *

It was past noon when she received a call from one of the brothers. They were listed as 'Winch1' and 'Winch2' in her phone, although she could never quite remember who was 1 or who was 2. She was tucked in her bed, shivering, panting, and trying to sleep under a countless number of blankets. Despite the sweat that soaked her pillow, she was freezing. The ceiling spun like a merry-go-around, and everything else she tried to look at danced before her eyes. She couldn't focus on anything; therefore, it was easier to close her eyes, despite the merciless lack of sleep.

When her phone's ringtone pierced the silence, she felt her head threaten to explode. Of course, she neglected to mention this to Sam when she grabbed the phone and recognized his voice. When he asked if he was disturbing her, her answer sounded more like a mumble than actual words. She also didn't tell him that she couldn't get up when he asked if she could go interrogate Crowley for them. They needed information for a case. She knew that if they sought help from the King of Hell, it was without a doubt a serious matter. And she wasn't really in a position of refusing, anyway. The Winchesters had been kind enough to welcome her in their home when she was in need, arguing that the bunker was big enough to shelter a 'so very tiny' hunter like her. Such an offer came with compromises, and if it wasn't that, then it was just basic good manners.

She left her bed, ignoring the sudden wave of vertigo and the shaking in her legs, and wrapped herself in a shawl. Then, slowly, she proceeded to try and regain some semblance of vitality. She hated feeling this weak. She could hear the raging storm above the bunker; it had been raining since this morning. Sometimes, the lights flickered, but no spirit presence was involved. _Truly, perfect weather to go along with a sick day!_ She thought sourly, while crossing the underground maze of rooms. She was glad to be inside, instead of with Dean and Sam, hitting the road somewhere in the states under this tempestuous sky.

She wasn't surprised to find the study room empty. Kevin had been working on the tablet for so long; he had been confined in his room to catch up all the sleep he had sacrificed. And it was only after Dean scolded him and ordered him to cut the slave labor and to get some shut-eye. However, she would've bet he had taken the tablet with him to keep translating, even if it was only in his dreams. She could have knocked on his door, and asked him to help her interrogate Crowley – she wasn't confident in her ability to go alone – but what if he was actually sleeping? Not to mention, he hadn't even bothered to check on her when she didn't show up to the kitchen for lunch. Maybe he hadn't eaten either.

Tired of thinking about unnecessary questions, she remembered her mission and grabbed a piece of paper and a pen from the wooden table, before heading down the path to the hidden door of the dungeon, all the while trying to keep her anxiety down and remain calm. A confrontation with the demon was not exactly a piece of pie. She had only been down there a few times, and the few times she had went to meet him, Dean and Sam had been there with her. From the start, Crowley had inspired a sick, twisted feeling in her gut. He was intimidating and he made her uncomfortable. There was never any fear in his shallow eyes, just boredom and manipulation. It wasn't difficult to believe he was the King of Hell, a man thirsty for souls and power, a man for who torturing was a hobby. He made her nauseous.

She stood before the shelves, gathering her courage, and gasping for air as her breath became shorter and shorter. Eventually, she opened the gate, and the first thing she saw was Crowley frowning, blinded by the intruding light. She pitied him sometimes. He was here alone, after all, clad in suit and tie, covered of ancient, painful-looking contusions that were slowly healing. Chained and trapped in a small circle, with only the darkness for company. She felt like there was not enough luminosity, so she turned on the fluorescent lights, and their cold brightness made both of them blink furiously. Her eyes were so sensitive, and the lights were only serving to make her headache worse.

"Hello, Princess." The King of Hell greeted her with an imposing presence, raising his chin ever so slightly.

"Don't except that I give you of My King or other stupid title, Crowley" was her only answer.

He didn't seem at all bothered by her arched tone.

"Of course not, my dear. I am no King of yours. But it only depends on you. Let me tell you, you would be a lovely demon!"

She grinned.

"Cut it out, Crowley. I'm not here for small talk."

"That's a shame, Princess. I would love to chat with you."

The confident smile that he flashed at her made her roll her eyes. He was becoming annoying, and she was forced to wander in the cell, forced to hear his snarky and teasing comments. As if just being in this humid and stinky room wasn't enough, there wasn't anything to sit on. One chair was occupied by Crowley, and the only remaining chair was broken in pieces, as though someone had slammed it against a wall. He was kind of the king of the room, at the moment, the only one who could sit and rest his legs. But after all this time, he surely had the urge to leave his throne, the sooner the better, for as long as possible.

She stepped closer to the table, while attempting to keep her distance from him, and rushed :

"What do you know about a demon called Minos?"

From what Sam had told her, it was sort of an evil trickster, the demon was able to possess one person at a time, and it's power was almost Herculean. He seemed to be immune to exorcism, and, though Sam didn't exactly say it, it wasn't difficult to understand that they were in trouble. Crowley remained silent.

"Look, the Winchesters need to know how to get rid of him. You have the answer and you will give it to me!" she exclaimed abruptly.

But he looked away with condescendence:

"And why would I do that? Why would I tell you that information? It would not be in my best interest, don't you think?"

"What, you want to make a deal?" she asked sarcastically.

"Pretty much, yes."

She lifted her eyebrows, but unlike her, the demon was not joking. She wasn't in the mood or in the best conditions to argue. In fact, she was feeling sicker than ever. When Crowley suggested that she release him just to stretch his legs and eat something, she just couldn't think in her right mind.

"If I let you out of this room, just for a couple of minutes, you will tell me all you know about Minos, right? And you will not attempt anything against me?"

"My word is my bond, Princess. This is a promise."

" Okay, fine."

She felt like she was giving in to him, but she didn't have much choice, or any better solutions. Before putting his chains down and removing his collar, she added :

"But I leave the handcuffs on your wrists." She heard him mutter something as he lifted his arms :

"Of course, I doubted you would free me from them..."

And, as she pulled the chains away and knelt to his chair, he spoke again :

"Usually, a deal requires a kiss."

"Fuck off!"

She felt dizzy when she stood up straight, and tried to hide her loss of balance by taking several steps away from the King of Hell as he lifted himself to his feet with a relieved and satisfied sigh. He followed her outside his cell, humming behind her. When she felt the need to lean against a wall, feeling weak, she realised this was perhaps not her best idea. In fact, it was a really messed up situation.

"You feeling alright, Princess?"

"Shut up..."

She took a deep breath, and kept walking, leading Crowley to the kitchens. The place was in order and almost shiny. Dean had made sure of that, spending his evening the day before cleaning it. She had helped a bit, even though she was already feeling tired and...weird.

Now what? Crowley had walked a bit, so the deal was partly done. Anyway, what did a demon, especially the King of Hell, eat? Alcohol? Raw pieces of meat? She had no idea. She turned to where he was waiting behind her, and noticed he was looking rather annoyed by the handcuffs that restrained him and prevented him from disappearing.

"Make yourself at home." She said. "Grab a fruit. Just hurry up, and then give me the information."

She pulled a chair out and sat at the table, still keeping an eye on the King of Hell as he was inspecting the kitchen. Her head felt like it was burning, and she wouldn't be surprised if her cheeks were flushed, like she was blushing in front of her crush. Crowley kept wandering, humming and muttering, through the kitchen, opening and closing drawers. There was more than enough sharp cooking tools here for him to menace her with, but surprisingly, he didn't take the chance. Instead, he raised his eyebrows towards her, asking in his best honeyed voice :

"Tell me, Princess."

"Hum?"

She didn't even bother to keep eye contact and lowered her head, beginning to scribble on her piece of paper.

"How do the Whinchesters treat you? You look like a mess. You're...what, their new maid?"

Stung, she angrily answered :

"I'm not their maid. And unlike you, they leave me alone!"

She stood up to get a glass of water, but her spinning head, the dots dancing before her eyes, and the chill that ran up her spine, she stumbled before reaching the sink. Luckily, she managed to grasp the bar for support. Crowley, however, didn't miss a bit of the scene.

"You're sure you're alright?"

"Yeah... Fine."

"You can't even stand on your feet!"

She wasn't quick enough to escape him as he walked towards her. But all he did was place a hand on her forehead. She felt his cold fingers and his palm, and she was ashamed to enjoy the fresh and pleasant caress for a moment.

"You're burning like Hell!"

She immediately threw his hand away, even though she missed the pleasant coolness already.

"Leave me alone, that's none of your business."

"Not my business? If you faint and the Winchesters find you half dead on the floor, with me outside of my cell, they're going to kill me. Without a second thought!" Crowley exploded with visible anger and maybe...fear?

"No, they're not." She sighed.

"Well, I would rather not take a bet. Just go to bed already, and do something to lower the fever."

"I'm fine! Resting in bed didn't work, and neither did the medication I took, anyway."

It was surprising, how well the demon could fake concern. It was almost believable. His dark eyes and mouth mildly open, ready to shoot more nonsense gibberish... She pulled his arm firmly, willing to return him to his cell.

"Look, if you have nothing better to do than asking stupid questions about me, you go back to the dungeon and you tell me how to defeat this Minos. I have to give a call to Sam soon."

Oh, how she wish... How she wish she could have kept her composure, and walked with determination. But Crowley resisted her and, ill as she was, she fell at the second step. He caught her before she hit the ground, and proceeded to help her stay standing.

"Goddamnit, I'm not a bloody nurse!"

"I didn't ask you anything!"

She tried to escape from the grip of his arms, but he held her tight against him.

"Now, Princess, will you show me your room, before melting on the ground like a pathetic larva?"

When she finally reached her bed, she welcomed the fresh sheets with a relief. She held onto a nervous laugh. The King of Hell was tucking her in bed! It was almost surreal. She lay under the blanket, shivering and hurting, feeling colder than before.

"Is that what you took?"

She turned her head, looked at the bottle of medication he was holding, and nodded.

"I suppose taking another one will not hurt. I'm going to bring a glass of water."

The noise of the chain between his wrists made her cringe, but she couldn't let him free. She didn't even know where the key of the handcuffs was! He stood and disappeared down the corridor. The storm was still howling above the bunker, and she feared Crowley might try to escape as the sound of his steps diminished. Sam and Dean would never forgive her! She moaned when she began to hallucinate because of the fever and saw hunters around her, leering at her, alongside demons that was laughing and observing her with their twisted faces.

When Crowley came back a couple of minutes later with a glass of water, she gladly accepted it, but hesitated before bringing it to her lips.

"You drink first." She ordered.

Crowley seemed offended.

"Don't you trust me?"

She shook her head in a silent no, and he shrugged.

"Good, you shouldn't. But I didn't put anything in your water, drink it."

She was unable to resist any longer. She took a pill and a sip of the water before resting her heavy head on her pillow and closing her eyes tightly. But startled by a sudden cool and wet touch on her forehead, she realized that Crowley had not only brought a glass of water, he had also prepared a wet towel to place on her head and cool her down. Was it really happening? She didn't dare to open her eyes. Instead, she lay still, not knowing what to do. Pretend to sleep, or look at him...?

Her phone decided for her as it rang, breaking the silence. Before she was able to straighten out and reach for it, Crowley had already laid his hand on it.

"Yes, Crowley speaking." He answered, flashing at her an evil smirk.

The towel fell onto her belly when she tried to fight for her phone. Needless to say, she was too weak to oppose the King of Hell. She abandoned the fight, curling on the bed. She could hear Sam's panicked voice as he asked why the Hell it was Crowley's voice and not hers.

"Your friend here had a little... setback, I am helping her. No need to worry, everything is under control."

Oh God... They were going to freak out, and come back in a rush! Crowley was enjoying it so much, making fun of them... She hissed:

"Enough with the riddles. Give me the phone!"

He put a finger against his lips, before all of sudden, checking her temperature again by pressing his hand against her head, and then her neck. It seemed so natural and dedicated that she found herself soothed and feeling better.

"No, Moose, I am not taking your little Princess in hostage. You two idiots didn't care enough to notice she was sick. She collapsed in front of me; I had no other choice than taking care of her."

She never thought she would hear those words coming from the mouth of a demon! She stared at him incredulously, while he was staring resolutely at the wall of brick.

"Now, listen to me. You asked for information, I will give them to you but I want you to do a little something for me. I was informed that Minos works for Abbadon, now. I would be pleased if you could send him my regards when you will burn off his head. I send you the instructions, and when you're done, you will pass by the drugstore before heading here, deal?"

After a moment of silence, he whispered "Fine" before ending the call. Then he dutifully sat by her bedside, using her desk chair, and declared with his legendary nonchalance :

"Well, guess I am the one looking after you, for now?"

END


End file.
